Baby Talk
by fiftyshadesfreak
Summary: Who knew Mr. Grey was so good at baby talk? Mix a one week old Teddy, two new parents, and a baby monitor, and we have a fluffy good time! ONE-SHOT! Enjoy and Review!


**A/N: Okay so I was planning on writing a full-length story dedicated to Ana and Christian as parents, and this was going to be one of the chapters (hence the reason I haven't posted it sooner)**

**But because of the way my life is right now, I can't see me ever having time to keep up with it, so I decided to just go ahead and post what I have so far as one-shots. **

**Anyway…hope you guys like this one! **

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_"God, Christian. Please," I moan loudly. _

_"What do you want, Anastasia?" he asks amusedly, ducking his head to plant another kiss on my inner thigh, teasing me. _

_"You," I gasp._

_"You have me."_

_"I want you inside me," I say, giving him the answer he's fishing for. He smiles up at me wickedly, just as two of his fingers slip within me. My back arches, my eyes closing with pleasure. _

A loud, piercing noise jolts me awake, pulling me cruelly from my erotic reverie.

I jerk, blinking awake in the darkness, totally disoriented. It takes me a second and a half to realize what woke me.

I glance up, to see the baby monitor on the bedside table by my head is lighting up – and an angry, shrill cry is coming through it, loud and clear. Before I can move, I hear a sleepy, muffled groan from behind me. Christian. I shift, still wrapped in the warmth of his arms.

But just as I start to sit up and go quiet my week-old son, Christian stops me. I feel his hand grab my arm as he props himself up on his elbow.

"Stay," he mumbles sleepily. "I'll get him." I roll, hearing the crying even louder now, to face Christian as he rubs his eyes momentarily.

"You sure?" I ask. "I don't mind."

"Yeah. Go back to sleep," he says with a groan in his voice as he slides out from the sheets and pushes up from the bed. I plop back down in the covers, burrowing into the warmth that Christian just left behind. I let my eyes slide wearily back closed as I hear Christian open the bedroom door, going out.

The past week has been pretty much like this. Teddy wakes up at least twice a night. It hasn't been enough to make us feel like zombies in the morning due to lack of sleep, but it has been enough to start catching up with us by now.

Even now, I can feel myself already slipping back off although I'm still being surrounded by the shrieking coming from the baby monitor. Just as I feel sleep creeping back on me, I hear the door to the nursery opening over the speaker on the nightstand. I'm pulled back awake when I hear Christian's voice over Teddy's crying.

"Hey," he croons softly, and I hear rustling from him picking Teddy up. "What's all the commotion about, buddy?"

Teddy's crying loses volume, a few hiccups breaking the shrieking. I hear more rustling, then Christian say in a calming voice, "You don't need to be changed, and it's nowhere near time for you to be hungry again. What's the matter?"

I listen, much more awake now. More shuffling, and Teddy's crying goes from full on wail to just hiccupping cries.

"Shhh," Christian quiets, and I hear the sound of wood creaking – the rocking chair in the corner of the room beside the crib.

"It's okay, Teddy…," he says in the softest, smoothest tone. The crying ceases to just a mere whimper now. I don't blame him – Christian talking like that would make me stop crying too.

"You're alright. Daddy's got you."

My heart swells, and I sit up slowly in bed, listening.

Teddy gives another cry of protest. "Daddy's got you," Christian repeats, lower this time. I look over and stare at the baby monitor as it lights up with every sound it registers, touched by the tender moment which I'm eavesdropping on.

A few more seconds and Teddy stops crying altogether, just making gurgling noises which are characteristic of babies.

"See?" Christian murmurs playfully. "Everything's okay – no reason to cry. Go back to sleep, Teddy Bear."

I hear the rhythmic rocking of the chair against the carpeted floor several times before the sound of Christian's soft humming joins in, quiet and soothing.

I stay there, still listening as Teddy quiets altogether, lulled back into sleep in the comfort of his daddy's arms. I shake my head, in utter disbelief that Christian could have ever doubted his ability to be a father. He was already amazing all through my pregnancy – worrying about every little thing, going to every doctor's appointment with me, even talking to Teddy through my belly.

And the past week has just proved me even more right. I'm already having moments when I think I might start screaming in the same way Teddy's screaming at the two of us, but Christian hasn't so much as made any complaint – hasn't shown the least bit of irritation, even when Teddy wakes us up like this in the middle of the night.

He's soothed, rocked, burped, held, and even changed diapers – all with this unending patience which is leaving me wondering where the hell he's getting it from.

I run my hand down my face, glancing again at the flickering monitor – Christian's low humming still coming through as he rocks back and forth, even though it sounds like Teddy has gone back to sleep by now. A small smile curves my lips, as I send my fervent gratitude that this man is the father of my child. Because I couldn't think of anyone better.

Even now as I sit here, picturing my husband sitting in the rocker, cradling our infant son, with that look…that look that hasn't left his face from the moment Teddy was born – one of just…joy. Joy and awe and pure love.

There was a time when I would've thought that Christian seemed out of place in such a tender situation, unable to picture him so domestic. But now, I know better. Now, I couldn't picture him any other way.

Before I even consciously decide to do so, my feet are touching the floor as I stand, throwing back the covers.

Making my way in the darkness, I leave the sound of Christian's crooning behind me in the bedroom as I slip through the cracked door that he didn't close back when he left.

I ghost silently down the hall, going the short distance to the nursery, right down from our room.

I slow as I come to the open door, the muted light caste out into the hall. Already, I can hear Christian's humming again, clearer this time. I first lean around the corner, taking slow exaggerated steps into the doorway.

The room is only lit with the small lamp in the corner. In the opposite corner, my eyes find a still-shirtless Christian, leaned back in the dark wooden chair, rocking to and fro slowly.

He doesn't see me as I lean up against the door jam, crossing my arms as I simply observe the loving scene before me; my heart swells and a smile automatically forms on my lips.

Christian's head is bowed – hence the reason he doesn't notice me – as he stares down at the tiny little blue bundle snuggled in his arms. He uses his hand to support Teddy's head, which looks even tinier in his daddy's large palm.

My eyes flicker up from my son's sleeping form to Christian's face. And I find that the picture I painted in my head in the bedroom was right – he's still wearing that same expression.

His lips are curved up in the softest way, not a full-blown smile, but a look of the utmost happiness and contentment. He gazes down at the precious baby in his arms, his eyes roving over Teddy's face as if memorizing every line, carefully committing them to memory.

I uncross my arms and use my hand to grasp the edge of the doorframe and fight the insane urge to cross the room and kiss my dear baby daddy senseless, not wanting to interrupt the moment.

But it's useless. The movement attracts Christian's attention, making his head snap up in my direction, his eyes meeting mine instantly. I smile a little guiltily, suddenly feeling like I'm intruding. But Christian's curved lips sweep up, turning into a beaming smile.

A lump forms in my throat as a wave of emotion rises with the display of bliss on his face.

"What are you doing up?" he whispers just loud enough for me to hear, his face still lit up like the rising sun.

My face splits as my own smile widens. Instead of answering him, I push away from the doorway, stepping into the room and moving toward him.

Christian gazes at me curiously as I come to a stop beside the rocking chair. My eyes flicker between Christian and Teddy, unable to settle on just one of the equally beautiful sights.

Finally, my eyes stop, resting on Christian's gray ones as I reach up with my hand, stroking his cheek with the back of my fingers.

"Who knew you were a baby whisperer, Mr. Grey," I tease in a whisper. He smiles shyly, dropping his eyes back down to Teddy.

"He's already back to sleep," Christian whispers back. "But I still hate to put him back in the crib – I could sit here all night and watch him sleep." He looks back up at me, gray eyes alight with wonder.

I smile and nod in understanding. "I know what you mean."

He drops his eyes again and sighs regretfully, halting his rocking so he can stand, making sure not to jostle Teddy and wake him. I watch as he carefully moves to the crib, shifting Teddy in his arms and leaning over the rail to slowly lower him in.

Acting like he's made of glass, Christian lays our baby back in his crib, sliding his hands out from underneath him. But even once he's back inside, Christian still doesn't turn around immediately. Instead, he rests both hands on the crib rail and gazes down at his sleeping son for several more moments.

Finally, he removes his hands and turns to face me. His tilts his head to the side when he sees the impossibly huge grin I can feel on my face. "You look like Cheshire Cat," he says softly with amusement.

It just makes me smile even wider as I step toward him, bringing us together so I can wrap my arms around his waist.

He hugs me back, not saying anything about my sudden emotion. He doesn't have to – Christian's always been able to tell what I'm thinking or feeling without me saying it.

I brush my lips against his bare chest and whisper, "You're a wonderful father. You know that, right?"

When he doesn't say anything, I glance up at him to find him staring at me dubiously, even a little worried. I squeeze him tighter. "You are."

He sighs bringing one of his hands from around my shoulders to stroke my cheek. "I hope you're right."

"I am," I press. "You're incredible with him, Christian. I could never get him to stop crying that fast."

He shakes his head a little, but I can still see the little spark of pleasure in his eyes at hearing me say as such.

"But it's easy now – when all he really needs is physical. When he gets older…," he trails off, huffing sharply. "How can I be what he needs?"

My face softens, humbled by the insecurities which plague my otherwise strong, powerful husband. The contrast between these two sides of Christian Grey is something that still astounds me.

"Christian," I sigh. "You have to stop thinking that you have to be perfect to be a good father. You just have to keep doing what you're doing – just love him. The rest we'll _both _learn on the way."

Christian's lips press into a line, the worry still visible in the crease between his eyebrows. I give him another reassuring squeeze.

"It's gunna be okay," I whisper.

"How do you know?" he asks desperately, his eyes looking lost as they gaze into mine.

I give him my most serene smile, totally at ease as I snuggle closer into his arms. "Because," I say offhandedly with a shrug, laying my head against his chest. "Mommy's got you."


End file.
